


Cleanse

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Bathing/Washing, Bisexual Female Character, F/F, Falling In Love, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Not Prime Time, Romance, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 09:44:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4258656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wasting water was the least of their concerns today.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cleanse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FreshBrains](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/gifts).



> Written for Not Prime Time for FreshBrains. I know you like femslash so I hope you like this.

“I hope it's quiet for the night,” Andrea breathed out as she removed her backpack, straps clinging to her sweaty, more like  _sticky_ shoulders. Michonne took the backpack from her without a word and unscrewed the cap off a fresh bottle of water, like they had both just run a marathon rather than search for shelter in a world that was out to get them, and this was not the first time that Andrea felt like she paled in comparison to Michonne’s strength and her capability to be entirely unruffled by any form of stress, though especially if that stress came in the form of walkers.

It was like she was built for this world, and Andrea could hardly keep up with her. Yet she did and she didn't know exactly _how_ either. Maybe there was something in Michonne that caused Andrea to push herself to her limits. Maybe it was Michonne’s not well hidden affection toward her that made Andrea want to do better, be good, be the best.

Andrea knew that Michonne’s giving nature toward her was entirely new for the katana-toting warrior. Michonne had revealed this on more than one occasion, and Andrea knew how lucky she was to be protected and loved by Michonne.

She also knew how lucky she was when Michonne offered her the water first, which she always did. But being grateful didn't have to go hand-in-hand with a lack of guilt.

Andrea’s hand wrapped around the warm bottle, but she only pushed it further into Michonne’s hand. “You first.”

Maybe it was Andrea’s reward for going back for her sister, for putting her first, for always making sure she was well fed and unharmed before turning to herself, at least since this whole mess began. Or maybe what it came down to was just plain luck. All Andrea knew was that Michonne’s gaze was more soft than ravenous, and she had rarely ever given Andrea a hard look, which she had become accustomed to receiving in her once line of work. She also knew that while it probably should have made her impatient, it just made her all the more gooey and warm inside.

Michonne gave her one of those looks that convinced Andrea that she was some type of goddess and Andrea her dutiful worshiper. She had told Michonne that once and she had laughed, and Andrea knew laughter, like love, was another thing that had not come easily to the other woman before.

Another push, another offering, and Andrea relented with a grin and a shake of her head, but only took a small sip out of the bottle.

The grin that Michonne gave her in return boasted a secret that Andrea longed to know.

They had found themselves in what used to be a retailer for office supplies, and Andrea’s line of sight briefly took in the pens, crumpled sticky notes and paper clips scattered helplessly across the dirt covered tile floor. Not much need for mechanical pencils when the world came to an end, and it wasn’t like staples or paper clips could hold the world together.

She and Michonne were secure, for the moment, and it wasn’t often that they found safe havens such as this one. They miraculously hadn’t crossed paths with a walker for days now. There was an explanation behind everything though: more and more walkers were moving out of the cities and towns and drawn toward the country, where the remaining survivors fled. Michonne must echo her realization, which was why she had led them here surer than Andrea had seen her as of late.

The taped up large windows overlooking the parking lot provided a comfortable darkness and a further sense of security. Usually Michonne didn’t like to rest for too long, but Andrea had been pressing her for a place to hole up for a while, a few days to a week at most, and she knew full well this was Michonne’s way of giving in by the relaxed look on her face - and Andrea woke up to that face and went to bed gazing at that face, so she could tell - and by the way she had triple checked the restraints on her walkers outside and placed her katana on a nearby counter.

They were both coated in dirt and grime and dried blood and god knew what else, but they were together and alive and they were in love.

Things had worked out for Andrea after all, and while the loss of Amy remained a sharp twist in her chest at unexpected moments, Michonne loved her no less for her moments of weakness.

Andrea had always been good at reading people, though for most of her life she had ignored it, wanting to live her life and take chances. With Michonne things had changed. Not only had Andrea had to relearn how to read her, since Michonne revealed little through words, but she had been excited to. Having a little excitement in her life, while not necessary for survival, made passing the time and surviving in a world with no future for either of them all the more bearable.

Through the little things that the other woman did say and the little things she did, Andrea caught on pretty quickly that Michonne had just as quickly fallen in love with her, their nearly instantaneous friendship morphing into a soft, heady love that Andrea vowed never to take for granted.

Andrea had never restricted herself when it came to relationships. She had dated women before, in that good as gone past life of hers, but never had she been drawn to one so darkly beautiful and so strong, a woman that didn’t talk her ear off but gave Andrea more cause to love her than she had ever loved anyone since her sister.

In her past life she would never have met anyone like Michonne. It would have been such a shame too.

Andrea basked in Michonne’s heated gaze. “Have another one of your brilliant ideas?”

Michonne stepped forward, a new bottle in her hand, and with a swift move of her hand dumped its contents over Andrea’s head as an answer to her question. Andrea spluttered, wiping the water out of her eyes, but it didn’t take her long to recover. She took the bottle Michonne had given her previously and emptied it over Michonne’s face, taking her sweet time as she did so, delighting in Michonne’s playful look of surprise as she pushed Andrea’s hand away. The water beaded like a miracle over her dark skin, and if being drenched hadn’t bid her to stay frozen then the sight of Michonne now did.

There were still beautiful things in the world, and Andrea felt blessed to have found one of them. 

The other woman stood stock still then after pushing Andrea away from her, but after a moment they both bent in on themselves and roared, driven to the floor by the force of their laughter. Andrea had still been shaken up and alert, even though Michonne had clearly seemed relaxed, but the laughter helped her to shake away some of her remaining tension.

Andrea felt dirty and in desperate need for a shower, but she couldn’t deny that the water had helped her to feel somewhat clean again. She wanted to scrub viciously at her skin with another bottle, but the reality of their situation calmed her. Nothing was unlimited anymore, especially not water.

When Michonne pulled two more bottles from their pack, Andrea raised her eyes and stared at her with amusement, amazed that Michonne was up to no good again. “You're not concerned with wasting water?”

Michonne nodded to something behind Andrea and Andrea turned, catching sight of the vending machine that was half-stocked with bottles of water, cans of coke and jars of Starbucks coffee. They had definitely caught a break this time.

“Good thinking, Michonne.” She was forever surprising Andrea at just how well she could make her smile or even laugh, and not only that, but she loved the way Michonne looked at her when Andrea said her name. The look of pleasant surprise on her face always made Andrea feel grateful, as if she were the first person to ever say ‘Michonne’ that the woman actually _liked_.

Anyone else would think that she was blowing things way out of proportion: Andrea’s heart beating fast in her chest when Michonne looked at her with approval and genuine affection; Andrea’s very blood singing when Michonne said her name like a prayer upon her lips; Andrea’s heart on fire when she realized how much Michonne must love her, to let Andrea wear her down and make her relax, to say words without irritation or impatience, to worm her way into Michonne so effortlessly, to make Michonne want to protect her.

But in this world, Andrea doubted you could blown anything out of proportion.

She missed her friends and she missed Amy and Dale and even Shane sometimes, but Michonne was that little light hung above her, illuminating a world that had granted her a form of reprieve.

When she turned again her mouth ran into Michonne’s, who had utilized Andrea’s distraction to move closer. God, was she stealthy, and in all the ways that mattered too. Michonne tasted slightly metallic but also sorta cinammony too, the spice exploding on Andrea’s tongue as if it were real. Michonne’s hands ran through her hair, not smoothing it down but messing it up even more, and she didn’t seem to care how Andrea felt, didn’t seem to care that she was dirty and aching and tired. Regardless of all those things, her hand snaked along Michonne’s neck and tugged her closer, ramming her mouth more firmly up against hers.

The water was put to good use after that.

Michonne discreetly poured some water in her cupped hand, her fingers wiping away the dirt stains and tear tracks on Andrea’s face gently and dare she say, reverently. Michonne took her time, as if the world outside wasn’t waiting to tear them down, and Andrea let her. She watched enthusiastically as Michonne moved to her arms next, and later her legs, pushing up the sleeves of her shirt and then tugging her pants down until they pooled around her ankles, and the way Michonne looked at her didn’t leave her feeling exposed. She had been naked around Michonne before, but neither had taken a step beyond making out and groping at each other in the dark. Their ever-searching fingers had never gone past the other’s underwear, and neither quite knew why.

Andrea had a notion. They had taken the fast and easy way out, the both of them, all of their lives. Now when things were different, when things were _good_ in a totally different sense, they both realized taking it slow wasn’t a sin nor a waste of time. They could enjoy each other like one or both of them might be gone the next day and they had to remember as much about the other person as they could, _really_ enjoy each other. Eventually they would get to the sex, but if Michonne wasn’t pushing then Andrea wasn’t either.

For once, that wasn’t what mattered to her; no, Andrea wanted the fumbling and the kissing and the taking it so achingly slow that the need burned and ached inside her and begged for release and still, she wouldn’t give in. The worst thing she could do was push Michonne, because Michonne would give into her and she knew it.

Michonne had given her so much, the whole world in just the form of her, and Andrea could worship her in completely different ways. 

As she scrubbed at the dried blood clinging to Andrea’s skin, Andrea wondered what had possessed Michonne to take care of her like this. Whatever it was, Andrea was more than happy to reciprocate. She asked Michonne for another bottle of water and proceeded to take care of her, washing the blood and the grime she had become so used to off of Michonne’s face and arms, enjoying the feel of the woman’s soft, dark skin under her fingers. When Andrea had dedicated just as much time to Michonne as Michonne had to her, the other woman found a box of granular soap in the bathroom and washed Andrea’s hair next, settling Andrea back against her after Andrea felt clean again and braiding her hair.

“Love you,” Michonne murmured, lips pressed into her hair, hands brushing through the remaining tangles in Andrea’s hair as she kissed her. 

“Why, Michonne, you know just what to say to flatter a girl.”

Andrea didn’t say it back, she didn’t have to. She was usually the one saying it, and anyway, it was so nice to have Michonne say it. Michonne of little words, Michonne who could make one word, or more accurately, two words sound like the most beautiful syllable(s) ever muttered.

She pushed herself farther back into Michonne. Andrea was so calm and relaxed and at peace that she could easily imagine Amy there with them, could even see her sitting off to the side, digging into a box of goldfish, legs crossed underneath her and humming a pop song under her breath. For one perfect moment their gazes locked and their smiles merged as one. It would never be a crowd with Amy there. Michonne wouldn’t mind either; she never brought up her past but she never minded Andrea bringing hers along.

For once Andrea didn’t dwell on what she wasn’t.

She got stuck on what she was and what she hadn’t lost after all.

**FIN**


End file.
